Knowledge in Dangerous Doses
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: It isn't a problem when someone doesn't know something, because they can ask someone who does. It's when they think they know something when they really don't that they're the most dangerous person on the station.


**Disclaimer:** While the attempt has been made to be medically accurate, some artistic license has been taken, and statements made by Dr Bashir are not to be regarded as authoritative.  
Amabutorin and tetracyline are a product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual drug and/or chemical names is unintentional.  
Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Paramount and Viacom; all original characters and story © 2015 FemaleChauvinist.

_Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

**A/N: "Season" given for timing reference only; see my profile for the alternate history used in this story. Barbie**

_After Season Seven; Bashir &amp; Jadzia Dax married_

Dr Julian Bashir trailed his fingers suggestively down his wife's back as she lay beside him in bed. Normally the light brush of his fingers on her skin brought a shiver of pleasure, but this time Jadzia sighed. "Not tonight, Julian; I'm too tired."

Bashir's warm hand rested between her shoulder blades. "Are you feeling all right?" he questioned, his voice sounding more like a doctor than her husband.

"Maybe a touch of indigestion, but don't go all doctor on me; I'm fine. It's been a busy day; I just need to sleep."

"All right," he said, and it was Julian now, not Dr Bashir. "How about this…no return favors necessary." He began massaging her shoulders and neck, his fingers kneading deep into the muscle. "Nice?"

"Mmm," Jadzia murmured, relaxing under his touch. One benefit of being married to a doctor, he knew exactly where and how to apply pressure to melt the stress and tension away.

Jadzia was just barely awake when he stopped, pulling her back against his chest and wrapping an arm around her. "Sleep, Jadzia Bashir," he breathed.

Jadzia smiled drowsily and snuggled back against him, letting go of the last thread of consciousness.

**oOo**

It was several hours later when Jadzia awoke panting, feeling strangely short of breath though nothing seemed to be obstructing her lungs. "Julian!" she gasped.

Bashir rolled over instantly, pushing himself up on his arm. "Jadzia? What's wrong?"

"It's — Dax," she gasped, hunching over slightly with an arm over her abdomen, some innate sense telling her that the discomfort she felt came from the symbiont and not herself.

Bashir tossed back the blanket and pressed a hand over her belly; he could have sworn he felt something squirm under his touch. "Does this hurt?"

"It — hurts _Dax_," Jadzia clarified.

Bashir reached backward, grabbing his tricorder off the nightstand without taking his eyes off Jadzia. He ran the instrument over her and frowned as he studied the readings. "You're right; the symbiont is in distress."

Jadzia whimpered softly.

"Relax; try to breathe slow and deep." He watched a moment to be sure she attempted to follow his orders before jumping out of bed and hurrying into his uniform. He hit the combadge and picked Jadzia up even as he spoke. "Bashir to transporters; two to beam to the infirmary."

A moment later Bashir materialized in the infirmary, turning as if from the same motion of picking Jadzia up to lay her in the biobed. He activated the monitors, frowning as he saw her rapid, slightly erratic heartbeat. Yet despite her obvious fear and distress, her eyes were fixed on him trustingly.

"Jadzia. Is there any possibility you were exposed to any dangerous substance today?"

"There was…a chemical leak," Jadzia answered. "Tetracyline."

Bashir closed his eyes for a moment. "And exactly why wasn't I informed of this?" he questioned, reaching for a device to run a blood test and adjusting the settings before pressing it to her arm.

"Monica…was there," Jadzia told him, referring to one of the lower-level medics. "She scanned us… said the exposure levels were safe for all species present."

"Point two percent," Bashir murmured, looking at the readout on the blood test. "Magdela, get me a hypospray of amabutorin."

The nurse, who had hurried forward at Bashir's first appearance with Jadzia, quickly put the requested item in his waiting hand. He injected the drug, knowing full well it was of little use. Administered immediately after exposure it would have been all the treatment necessary, but now that the symbiont was affected and suffering severe oxygen deprivation, there was no proof injected amabutorin was of any benefit at all.

"Magdela. Find out who else was exposed to that chemical leak; get them in here and have them checked by a senior medic. Regardless of what he finds, I want them kept for observation until I can examine them myself. But first call Dr Enrolin Shakar and two surgical nurses to assist me as soon as they can get in here."

"Yes, sir," Magdela replied, hurrying to do as he asked as soon as she saw that he had finished giving his orders.

Bashir bent over Jadzia once more, checking her neurological signs and not liking what he saw. The symbiont's mind was inextricably interwoven with hers; its distress was beginning to affect her on more than a psychological level.

He was all doctor as he examined her and rapidly considered options for her treatment; had to be, if he wanted to keep his emotions sufficiently in check to treat her. Yet Julian touched her cheek with a husband's tenderness as he spoke. "Jadzia, I'm going to sedate you and put you on a ventilator."

Jadzia clutched at his hand. "Julian, please — save Dax!"

"I will," he promised softly, his heart clenching at the realization that to lose Dax was almost certainly to lose Jadzia as well; they had been joined far too long for her to survive if the bond was severed.

He brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her fingers, then forced his thoughts back into their clinical detachment. He was Dr Bashir, not Julian; doctor, not husband — she was Lieutenant Dax, not Jadzia; patient, not wife. Otherwise he would be too emotionally involved to treat her, and maybe it was arrogant, but he could trust no one else to perform the only procedure he could think of that might save Dax.

Closely followed by the two nurses, the Bajoran doctor hurried into the room as Bashir was adjusting the settings on the ventilator.

"Magdela informed you of the situation?" Bashir questioned tersely.

"Yes."

"I'm going to operate to treat Dax directly. I need you to monitor Jadzia through the operation and hook her up to a hemoscrubber; put it in the artery that supplies the symbiont so Dax gets clean blood as soon as possible." Based on the same idea as old-fashioned dialysis machines, the hemoscrubber was much smaller and could be programmed to remove specific chemicals from the blood.

Dr Enrolin nodded his understanding, and Bashir forced himself to detach himself further, to leave Jadzia in his colleague's competent hands and focus fully on Dax.

"Activating sterile field," he announced. The field crackled to life over Jadzia's still body, and Bashir felt the tingle as he put his hands into it without need for gloves or scrubbing.

Wielding a delicate laser scalpel that kept blood loss to a minimum, Bashir exposed the sac in Jadzia's abdomen with one skillful stroke, then cut through the membrane.

The symbiont was writhing; its surface a strange color, dry and puckered; oozing in spots. "Triox," Bashir ordered, and immediately it was in his hand.

He slowly injected the drug into the umbilical that connected Dax to Jadzia, and the writhing eased to a slight quiver.

He quickly tested the symbiont, finding the levels of tetracyline slightly higher even than they had been in Jadzia's blood. He injected a hypospray of amabutorin directly into the symbiont, then began bathing it in a fluid that was a synthesized version of the liquid in the symbiont pools on Trill. It was kept on board in the event that a symbiont needed to be kept alive for a short time without a host; now it was the best remedy to moisturize and heal Dax's membranous skin.

Bashir continued working over Dax for several hours, alternately injecting triox and amabutorin and reapplying the soothing fluid.

"Blood tetracyline levels down to point zero one," Dr Enrolin announced. "Removing hemoscrubber and injecting amabutorin."

"Acknowledged," Bashir responded, not looking up from his task.

It was another hour before he finally had the symbiont stabilized. He closed the incision he had made, leaving an IV line to supply triox in the umbilical cord and a tube slowly dripping the fluid over the symbiont; it was the equivalent of putting Dax on oxygen and IV fluids.

He straightened slowly and drew a deep breath, at last allowing himself to look at the monitors apprising him of Jadzia's condition. He paused to check her for himself, then turned wearily to Dr Enrolin. "Move her to an ICU room and keep her sedated for now; page me if there's any change."

Dr Enrolin nodded, and Bashir turned and left the room.

He wearily ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw as he entered the observation ward. He needed less sleep than the average unenhanced human, but replacing it with nearly five hours of emotionally-charged surgery had left him physically weary and mentally drained. "How are they?"

"I would give them all a clean bill of health, but you're the doctor." The medic looked at him a little oddly. "Sir, you do realize that tetracyline is completely harmless to most species." He appeared thoughtful. "In fact, I believe the only life-form on the station that would suffer any ill effects is a joined Trill."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Bashir said quietly.

The medic caught his breath, suddenly realizing what he had said. "Sir, _she_ wasn't exposed —?"

"Yes."

"Is she all right?"

"She will be. But I wasn't made aware of it until the symbiont was in serious distress; I may have overcompensated for the oversight by calling everyone else in here."

"That's understandable, sir," the medic sympathized quietly.

"Is it?" Bashir asked shortly. He was a xenologist, and a brilliant one at that; hadn't calling in species he knew wouldn't have been harmed by the chemical been an irrational reaction to his own fear?

_You sound like a Vulcan,_ he scolded himself grimly. Forcing his best bedside manner with a charming smile, he moved to the first of the three occupied biobeds. He examined the patient, explaining smoothly that the chemical had been found to be potentially more dangerous than first believed. He assured him that he had suffered no harm, and released him from the infirmary with an apology for the inconvenience.

Bashir purposely left Monica for last, dropping his bedside manner as he approached her. He examined her in unsmiling silence, and looking at his face she didn't dare question him.

"You're fine," he told her shortly when he had finished. "I'm releasing you from the infirmary; report to my office at 0800."

"Y-yes, sir," Monica whispered, watching wide-eyed as the doctor spun on his heel and left the room, brushing past the medic without speaking. There was no question he was angry with her, and she struggled to think of a reason why.

**oOo**

Bashir returned to Jadzia's room, questioning Dr Enrolin tersely as to her condition and then proceeding to check it for himself.

The symbiont's readings were near normal, and he removed the IV and fluid drip he had left. "Use your own discretion in removing the ventilator," he told Dr Enrolin. "I'll be in my quarters, and then speaking with Monica in my office."

"Understood, sir. I'll page you if there's a problem."

Bashir merely nodded and left the room, taking the turbolift back to the habitat ring and entering his quarters. He didn't feel hungry, but got a quick bite from the replicator before shaving and showering in an attempt to feel more alert. Finally he gave in, breaking an unspoken personal rule and giving himself a hypospray for the tension headache building behind his eyes.

**oOo**

Dr Bashir was nearly five minutes late for his meeting with Monica; as she waited, she kept running the previous day's incident over in her mind. Obviously she had made some error that had upset the doctor, but try as she might she couldn't figure out what it might have been. She briefly considered the fact that Lieutenant Dax hadn't been under observation with the rest of them, but dismissed it; she was married to Bashir, so likely he had examined her in their own quarters without bothering to bring her to the infirmary.

Bashir made no apology for his tardiness as he entered the room and sat across from her behind the desk. "Do you know why I called you in here?" he asked abruptly.

"I-I guess because of the chemical leak yesterday," Monica stammered. "But I don't quite understand what I did wrong, sir." Her voice trembled slightly in spite of her best efforts to speak calmly.

"You failed to tell me of the incident," Bashir said bluntly.

"Th-there was no need, sir; I knew the chemical was safe."

"Are you a xenologist?" Bashir asked quietly.

Monica blinked. "No, of course not. But I happened to be reading about it just the day before, so I knew it was safe for all the life-forms present."

"It's safe for _unjoined_ Trill," Bashir stressed. "However, even very low levels in the bloodstream can be fatal to the symbiont."

Monica gasped, her eyes wide. "Is Lieutenant Dax all right?" she asked, appearing on the verge of tears.

"Yes, after emergency surgery and aggressive treatment." He sighed. "It was an honest mistake, Monica, so I'm not going to take disciplinary action. But in your future studies, please take note of whether a text refers to joined or unjoined Trill. You're dismissed."

Bashir watched her leave, then dropped his face into his hands, resting his elbows on the desk. His headache had eased to a dull throbbing, and he rubbed his temples, wishing he had given himself a slightly higher dose of the pain medication.

He had refrained from giving Monica the tongue lashing he wanted to, but he knew he had been harsher with her than she really deserved…harsher than he probably would have been if anyone but Dax had suffered the effects of her misjudgment. It wouldn't surprise him at all if she asked for a transfer or even decided to give up medicine after the way he had just treated her…he supposed he would have to talk to her when he could think about the situation more objectively; maybe even offer to personally oversee her continued training to reduce the likelihood of a repeat of this kind of error. Or was that only his ego again; his half justified belief that he was the only one on the station fully qualified to practice medicine? Certainly he was _most_ qualified, but that didn't lessen the abilities of the others…

He looked up at the sound of the door tone. "Enter," he said hollowly, wondering if he looked as haggard as he felt.

The door slid back to reveal Captain Benjamin Sisko standing there. "I heard about Dax," he explained quietly, crossing the room and taking the seat Monica had vacated. "I stopped by the infirmary; Dr Enrolin said she was resting comfortably but that he didn't have the authority to allow visitors."

Bashir didn't respond, and Sisko leaned forward, frowning in concern. "Julian…are _you_ all right?"

"The most dangerous person on the station is someone who _thinks_ she knows something when she doesn't," Bashir muttered. He looked up. "You know what happened?"

"More or less; Dr Enrolin said patient confidentiality kept him from giving me any details unless I made it a direct order."

"Then you know Monica thought the chemical was safe for all Trill, when it's actually highly toxic to the symbiont."

"Yes."

Bashir shook his head. "What bothers me most is that she _would_ have reported it if she hadn't known whether it was safe or not; since she was sure she knew it _was_, how can I fault her for her reaction? I don't _want_ to be called whenever anyone is exposed to anything that's potentially dangerous to _someone_. For that matter, there's one species which water affects like acid; do I have them call the infirmary anytime someone spills a glass of water in someone else's lap? And what's the point of having a staff if I'm going to insist on doing everything myself because I don't trust them?"

"You wish you could blame Monica," Sisko summed up.

"Otherwise I blame myself," Bashir said quietly.

"Julian, sometimes there's just no one to blame. All you can do is accept that it happened, be thankful it was no worse, and move on. No one expects you to work miracles or be everywhere at once."

Bashir sighed. "I think sometimes…I do," he said hollowly.

"That's a heavy burden," Sisko observed quietly. "And believe me, if anyone on this station knows, it should be me."

Bashir smiled briefly.

"So…can I see Dax?"

Bashir drew a deep breath and got to his feet. "Come down to the infirmary with me; I'll check her first and make sure having a visitor wouldn't be too taxing."

**oOo**

"Wait here," Bashir told Sisko quietly.

Sisko nodded, leaning against the wall as Bashir continued into one of the inner rooms of the infirmary. He saw at once that Dr Enrolin had taken Jadzia off the ventilator, though she still had an oxygen mask.

"Continued improvement?" he questioned tersely. Jadzia's eyes blinked open at the sound of his voice, smiling slightly and slowly following his every move.

"Affirmative, sir. Tetracyline levels have decreased to nearly undetectable levels, and the symbiont's oxygen levels have remained steady."

Bashir nodded in dismissal. "Thank you, Shakar."

Dr Enrolin slipped out of the room without a word, leaving Bashir alone to once again examine his patient.

"Julian…" Jadzia whispered, catching his hand.

He smiled, some of his tension draining as the readings proved she was indeed stable and out of danger. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"Better. Julian…don't be too hard…on her."

Bashir smiled tightly. "I did my best, Jadzia."

"Not…her fault."

"I know." He glanced once more at the monitors. "Are you feeling up to a visitor, Jadzia?" he asked softly.

"Who…?"

"Captain Sisko."

"All…right."

Bashir gently squeezed her hand. "I'll go get him."

Sisko straightened as Bashir emerged. "How is she?"

"Stable. You can have five minutes with her." He stepped back to allow Sisko to precede him into the room.

"Hey, Old Man," Sisko greeted her with a smile, crossing to sit beside the bed.

Jadzia smiled faintly. "Hey," she whispered in response.

Bashir kept a close eye on the monitors during the short visit, stepping forward before five minutes had fully passed. "Time's up," he said quietly.

Sisko didn't question him, giving Jadzia a quick goodbye before allowing the doctor to escort him from the room. "How long are you planning on keeping her here, Julian?"

Bashir hesitated. "Normally I would say at least one to three days; since she lives with a doctor, I might release her sooner." He flashed Sisko a lopsided grin. "But I may want to keep her on medical leave for at least a week, if I can hold her down that long."

Sisko chuckled. "I'll back you up," he promised.

Bashir snorted. "As if you're not as bad or worse yourself…"

Sisko abruptly turned. "I need to get to Ops. Oh, and Julian, barring emergencies, you're on leave as long as she is."

"Don't say 'barring emergencies,'" Bashir said dryly. "That just _guarantees_ someone's going to have an accident or come down with appendicitis or something."

Sisko winked. "Something 'minor" like appendicitis, let one of the other doctors handle; they don't need your 'magic touch" for that."

**oOo**

Bashir ended up keeping Dax in the infirmary overnight, bringing her back to their quarters around midmorning the next day. He allowed her to walk, his arm firmly around her waist for support, but ushered her immediately to bed despite her protests.

"And you're still on medical leave, Jadzia Bashir Dax," he reminded her sternly. "I have Sisko's word that if you show up in Ops, he'll either call me or personally escort you back."

Jadzia looked at him in wide-eyed innocence. "Do you really think I would?"

Bashir snorted. "You're a Starfleet officer, Jadzia; every one I've ever known or heard of has tried to leave the infirmary against medical advice at least once."

He sat on the bed behind her, pillowing her head on his legs and trailing a finger absently down her Trill spots. "Jadzia, that's the last time I let you tell me not to 'go doctor,'" he said seriously.

Jadzia shuddered. "That's the last time I'm asking you to," she whispered. "You know better than I do when something's serious, Julian. I brushed it off as nothing — and nearly killed Dax! All those lifetimes of experience nearly lost…"

"To say nothing of _yours_," Bashir murmured. He pulled her up against his chest, wrapping his arms over her shoulders. "But it's not your fault, Jadzia; it's mine. I shouldn't have let you brush me off when you admitted to feeling at least some discomfort."

Jadzia smiled weakly, accepting his comfort. "I'm sorry, Julian. I'm a Starfleet officer; I don't know why I'm suddenly so emotional."

"I do," Bashir said dryly. "It's the amabutorin; heightened emotions are a side effect. I should have known better than to bring that subject up when I still have you on a fairly high dosage."

Jadzia turned, wrapping her arms around him and laying her cheek against his chest. "Thank you, Julian," she whispered.

"For what? I was just doing my job, Jadzia."

"Mm. But you always know just what to do, Julian. A little knowledge may be a dangerous thing…but you have more than enough."

The End

_I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! _

_Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


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